A Counsellor’s Musings
by Ithil hin
Summary: The Cheif Counsellor Erestor's thoughts during the Council scene. [COMPLETE]
1. Default Chapter

[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]  
  


A Counselor's Musings.  
  


* * *

My Lord Elrond speaks to the council of elves, men and dwarves on the subject of the rising dark; the increasing threat of the Mordor forces. And I cannot help but allow my mindseye to slip back into the long suppressed but not forgotten memories of the last war of the cursed ring.  
  
I don't often look back at such harsh times and when I do it is merely for the education purposes of the Lord's Elrohir and Elladan and the Lady Arwen. But even then it is rare that I teach such subjects. Glorfindel understands my intense dislike of that particular time; he understands that I find it difficult to think clearly when the subject arises so he takes it upon himself, regardless of his own feelings on the matter, to teach them the history.  
  
My understanding is that Glorfindel also tells Elrohir, Elladan and Arwen not to ask their father about such things either. And I completely, whole- heartedly understand. Lord Elrond, we all for that matter, lost many of our kin. We lost a well-respected king; we lost friends, family... It was a tragic battle, lives were lost but despite the Prince of Gondor refusing to destroy the ring of power, it ended in peace. As peaceful as a land could get with the numerous orc's roaming the planes of Middle-earth at least.  
  
I watch him now and on the surface I see a calm, collected elf-Lord talking of the dark threat. I see the front he puts up for all around and I see right through it. Of course, I am one of few who can; the others being his children and Glorfindel. He hurts as he speaks. I know after the meeting is over he will retreat to his chambers to sit and think over his past.  
  
My eye catches that of Glorfindel and I can see his thoughts are exactly where mine are. I stifle a sigh and make myself focus on Elrond's rather depressing mantra.  
  
I watch the Lord and Ruler of Imladris recite his well-practiced speech to the council; the speech I myself have memorised from the many times my Lord has gone over it with me present. I have no doubt in my mind that Glorfindel and a few other high council members also know it by heart.  
  
I find myself again loosing myself in my thoughts. My eyes are on the standing form of my Lord as my mind wanders. I think of the final battle of the last alliance. I think of the fall of both men and of elves. I think and I think and I think... I know it is not doing me well as it does not do well to dwell on the past but I cannot help myself.  
  
So I sit, listening to my Lord Elrond speak to the council and I think it would be too soon before I see a battle field once more. As my eye once more catches Glorfindel's I know he knows my pain.  
  
Then those words are uttered.  
  
Black speech: the only language that I know and hate at the same time. For an Elf to hate something it is saying quite a lot. And when I say I hate it, I mean I hate it with a passion. I detest its very existence and here, the Istar is chanting it. The sky surrounding the valley darkens and I'm wincing at every syllable uttered. Out of the corner of my half-closed eye I see my woodland kin in addition to Lord Elrond and Glorfindel wincing also.  
  
"Ash nazg durbatulyk ush nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulyk agh burzum- ishi krimpatul!"  
  
The words implant themselves into my brain after over two-thousand years of managing to avoid hearing such things. I know very well the meaning of the words, by Elbereth do I know the meaning but that does not mean to say that I wish to par-take in a hearing of the language!  
  
Lord Elrond spoke a mild-reprimand to the Istar and I find myself wanting to retreat to my chambers. I do not want to be in the presence of Gandalf the Grey for very much longer.  
  
I feel a gentle touch on my left shoulder and risk a glance back. There stands Glorfindel, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips and I cannot help but return the gesture weakly.  
  
The council is a mass of argument now. I sigh inwardly, leaning back into my friend's touch. I allow my eyes to roam over the small crowd and note with a slip of grim amusement that the Mirkwood Prince is attempting, in vain, to keep the elves he travelled here with in line.  
  
The Prince, while keeping his mouth firmly shut, looks around quickly and seems to have noticed my amusement of the situation because he sends me a scowl that should never find its way onto Royalty's features. My lips twitch in a smirk, despite my previous darkened thought, the look on the Prince's face is simply too much for me not to react to. He noticed the look, inclining his head slightly in polite defeat before returning his attention to the mass of voices.  
  
My gaze suddenly turns to the Halfling present. I see his gaze is set on the ring that resides in the centre of the stone podium Lord Elrond requested he put it on some time earlier. He looks as though he is being forced to make the biggest decision of his young life.  
  
I feel for him, I well and truly do. No man, Hobbit, Dwarf, Wizard or Elf should burden themselves with this evil concoction. Yet I know that the ring cannot remain in Rivendell. Lord Elrond mentioned this more than once since the Halfling's arrival. And I know in my heart that this small, innocent Hobbit will have to be the one to carry it to Mordor.  
  
"I will take the Ring." The Halfling speaks up, surprising all but a few with his words. I do not blame them.  
  
I look in his heart and I see an innocence there that no one else at this meeting possesses... even my kind. He has a strong will and I know not why, but I feel pride swell within me.  
  
My gaze finds the Istar once more and I am reminded to the earlier speech he practically boomed out for all to hear. My eyes drop to my lap where my hands rest, clasped together, and I sigh. I find myself longing to be away from the stifling atmosphere it seems only I can sense.  
  
Without being formally dismissed, I rise from my seat, feeling Glorfindel's hand slip from its perch and I begin to walk away.  
  
"Erestor." I hear My Lord Elrond call out and I pause. My left foot poised on the first of five steps leading into the confines of corridor.  
  
"Forgive me, My Lord." I say without turning. I know it is rude but if I turn around I fear I will break down. "I cannot stay here this evening a moment longer." And with those words, I continue up the steps and down the long corridor. I hope Lord Elrond understands my need for solitude, for I do not intend to speak with anyone until the morn sun arises.

* * *

I thought of this when I was watching the Council of Elrond scene. I saw the dark-haired elf at Elrond's right hand and thought immediately of Erestor. For obvious reasons, I would imagine. Anyway, I came up with this and I'm not sure if I should continue or leave it as a one-shot.   
  
I pray the people who review will help me in that respect... if any.   
  
I hope you enjoy it. Review!   
  
Thank you!! 


	2. Friendship

[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]  
  


A Counselor's Musings - Friendship.  


* * *

Lord Elrond didn't call out again. I think he will come to talk with me later on when he feels I've calmed myself. Or rather, I know he will come to talk to me.  
  
As I strode away I could feel every eye on my back and I found that I didn't care. I simply could not stay there a moment longer and I prayed that Lord Elrond understood my inner turmoil and would allow this incident to slip past.  
  
I am walking now, down a set of stairs that lead to one of the far rear woodland paths. As I reach the bottom I take a moment to collect myself; to gain a sense of control over my carefully schooled, but unusually exposed emotions. Despite what the Lords Elladan and Elrohir might think, or even comment on, I do possess them. Emotions, that is. I think I could actually use a wit-filled bantering session with the twins right about now if I am perfectly honest.  
  
I feel a smile working its way to the surface at that very thought.  
  
I start walking down the path, allowing my feet to lead me as I do so. I know that once the Council Meeting is over, Glorfindel will come looking for me. He is a dear friend and I do not think he realises just how much his company alone keeps me sane. His small jests, mischievous comments, his entire self... His friendship along with that of Lord Elrond and the twins are what keep me here in Middle-earth. If not for them, I would have left for the Havens long ago.  
  
Without realising it, I've found myself in one of the few places I like to go to, to be alone with my thoughts. It is a small clearing amongst the trees and bushes. A simple formation of three large rocks sits along in the centre.  
  
I make my way towards the rocks slowly and I am reminded once more of why I come to this place. Nothing honestly comes to mind when I look upon these three rocks and for reasons that only the Valar are even capable of comprehending, I find that comforting.  
  
When Glorfindel first looked at them he told me he sees an image of the sun rising from the east with the mountain walls sloping down to meet at ground level. I remember when I heard this 'view' for the first time. I granted my fair-haired friend a sideways glance and a raised eyebrow before saying, "Such poetic words...". Yet, I could not resist adding on, "For you." As amusing as I found my words to be, Glorfindel did not share in my humour and so I quickly found myself doused in the contents of the water-skin that was attached to his hip. Such good friends I have.  
  
I laugh lightly at my thoughts as I climb the rocks to rest on the large boulder with ease. The boulder, in the context of Glorfindel's rather poetic image, represented the 'sun'; the two other rocks would then represent the sloping sides of the valley.  
  
I sigh and look upwards at the now darkened night sky. I lean back, steadying myself by resting on my elbows.  
  
I feel, rather than hear, Glorfindel approach and allow myself the briefest of smiles. He really is a good friend. I do not feel as though I deserve such an honour, though he never fails to tell me different whenever I voice my thoughts.  
  
"Is he angry?" I ask, my tone a mere whisper, but I know my companion hears me. I hear him climb on the 'valley walls' and take rest on the wall to the left as my feet are propped up on the wall to the right.  
  
"You know he is not angry." I hear his melodic voice chime not so much louder as my own had been. "He understands your pain.", He continues, "He goes through the same pain."  
  
I allow my eyes to drift shut and my head to fall back.  
  
I know he is correct.  
  
"'Fin, I am over 5000 years of age, and I cannot even find it within myself, to teach the subject of the last alliance." My tone is harsh; I send a silent apology out that I know he just-as-silently accepts. "What kind of Elf does that make me?", I mutter. I care not that I sound self- reproachful. I hear him shift beside me and the faintest of sighs escape his lips.  
  
"'Restor, you are affected by your past. It is nothing to be ashamed of. And your age has naught to do with anything either." His words are of great comfort to me and again I am finding myself thanking the Valar for granting the companionship we share.  
  
I don't respond to his statement and he takes it as permission to ramble - pardon me, 'continue talking'.  
  
"After you left the meeting, silence reigned over all in attendance as they stared at your retreating back, and then the steps you'd just vacated." He moves from the rock to sit on the more comfortable grass by it. I know it is an invitation so after a moment I follow him, take my seat between his parted legs and rest my back against his chest. Only then do I smile at his words. Whenever we are both here alone, I do not feel like talking and he has the pent-up energy of a very spry elfling, he fills the silence with seemingly well-scripted words. A prettied, humorous dialect we have deemed, 'Proper Speech'. The twins like to add on 'The magnificent style of 'Fin' just to annoy him.  
  
"Estel offered the young Halfling, Frodo, his sword. Our dearest Mirkwood Prince pledged his bow and the Dwarf..." Glorfindel spoke the word 'Dwarf' with humoured distaste. "Gimli, son of Gloin offered his axe." I knew what was coming next and couldn't help it when a ghost of a smile found its way to my lips. "Of course, that was after you Greenleaf spoke up." I feel him chuckle lightly. "The Halfling's kin bombarded the meeting, all expressing their desire to accompany young Mr Baggins on his quest and all saying that they were not, under any circumstances to be left behind." I hear him hesitate but he continues anyway. "The Istar is going with them also, as well as the man from the city of Gondor, Boromir, son of Denetor, who kindly offered his 'services'"  
  
I chuckle at the small level of contempt in my friend's voice when he mentions the man.  
  
"When the meeting was over, I stepped out from my station, still behind your vacated chair and after a short but meaningful and very un-elf-like glare at the Istar; I followed the path you took." He says this with so much pride and I see him holding his hand out as if to check his well- manicured nails, I cannot help but laugh loudly. "I expect him to question our beloved Lord Elrond on the matter and then if we are lucky, an apology will be made."  
  
"He asked not for pardon, 'Fin. You know that as well as I and I do not expect one. One Elf's past should not affect the Istar." I say, my laughter quickly subsiding.  
  
"'Restor be silent. Just smile your pretty smile, nod and agree with me as you know I always come out on top in matters such as these." He is right, but I would not feed his ego anymore than it has already been fed, however graceful he holds it. So I don't respond to the remark and I can feel, literally feel, that smug smile on his face.  
  
I roll my eyes and lean back further into him, smiling at the level of comfort his mere presence brings me. I feel his fingers move deftly through my hair and I close my eyes.  
  
"I can understand the need for the meeting." I say, my voice quiet and solemn. "The ring must be destroyed, I know this. But what I find myself unable to comprehend is the Istar's need to quote that... that vile speech." Glorfindel says nothing and I silently thank him for his patience. "I know what is done is done - there is little point dwelling on such things now... but I can't..." I curse myself for the treacherous emotions I possess. "I just can't 'Fin. I was an Eldar at the last Alliance battle. Already had I seen much. Death, destruction, pain, depression, heartache." I stop short when I feel a tear run down my left cheek.  
  
"Erestor." He speaks. "I share your pain, Mellon. I will forever carry your hand in friendship until such a time when you want me no longer... And even then I will offer you my hand. Worry not, those days of fear, distress and pain are over for you. I promise this." He kisses the top of my head and I smile once more.  
  
Glorfindel, Elbereth bless his soul. What have I done to deserve him?  
  
"You always seem to know my thoughts and worries Glorfindel. What would I do without your council?" My tone is wistful. I do not expect an answer and he does not offer one. We just sit together in silence, enjoying the other's closeness and forgetting about the outside world.  
  
At least for a short while...

* * *

Hope you enjoy. Review!!  
  
Thank you! 


	3. Momentary Lapse

[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]  
  
A Counselor's Musings - Momentary Lapse.

* * *

Glorfindel informed me some time ago that the Fellowship leave in the morrow. I fear for each and every one of them. I fear for the young Halfling, Frodo Baggins, as he offered, or as the word should be put, declared to all, that he would be the one to take the cursed Ring into the fires of that Valar-forsaken mountain of fire and ash. However, I hold dear to me the faith that he will be the one to destroy the wretched thing once and for all. I greatly fear for the child-like innocence Mr Baggins and the rest of his kin possess... I fear they will lose it. Such blissful and content ignorance is what makes the shire their safe-haven paradise and I fear that they will lose it all.  
  
I fear for the men. Granted, I watched Estel grow from an infant to the man he is today. I, along with a few others tutored and trained him... But, I cannot ignore the nagging twist in the deepest regions of my soul, the fear I feel for him and the one known as Boromir. They are both men. Not all men are slave to their weaknesses despite their own misgivings. But weakness is still there. No more than a mere sliver in some and more prominent in others. Even now, I feel, I saw the temptation flicker through the eyes of the Gondor Stewards' first born. It is not a comforting feeling at all.  
  
I fear for my kin, the Prince of the Elven Woodland realm. I know he will not be swayed. Perhaps I am biased in such matters as I have known said Prince many-a-winter and we have grown to be good friends but in my heart of hearts I know even Elf-kind are not immune to the seductive thrall of the one ring. Though it well should be, it is not my Primary fear regarding my friend; my fear is that Elvendom on Middle-Earth may loose one of its most well-loved Princes.  
  
Whether anyone here or there believes these words or not, I fear for the Dwarf. His heart is in the right place, true enough, but the arrogant streak running through his being reminds me of one Marchwarden I shall not name. He also has his intense dislike for my kind against him. The rift between our two races may or may not prove difficult when the nine begin their journey. Perhaps a word in Estel's ear would aid somewhat... to ensure at the very least, a reluctant truce could be reached.  
  
I may not completely like or trust him as I once did, but I fear too for the Istar. I am not sure why, other than the obvious as stated before concerning certain thrall-efforts on the rings part. But I can sense that something is amiss... or will be.  
  
My point! Exactly! I am of the unsure! Obviously!  
  
I am being shaken. I grant the motion this; it isn't very pleasant and sure way to grasp the attention of the unconscious... formerly, as it were.  
  
I frown. Who is shaking me? I inwardly sigh. One could safely say I'm more than a little irritated at being brought out of my peaceful yet contemplative reverie before I wanted to leave!  
  
"'Restor." I hear. I know the voice, who could not? I do not acknowledge it though. Why should I? The voice is accompanied by, much to my heated annoyance, another firm and sharp shake.  
  
Well, that's why.  
  
I growl, literally growl in aggravation. My right fist seems to think it has a mind of its own as it duly lashes out in the general direction the voice rudely came from. My 'attacker' must have seen the mindful fist coming as the path the fist was taking was abruptly cut short by foreign interference - what my brain finally registers as a hand restraining the wrist attached to said fist.  
  
In my defence... I'm in limbo. The place between the conscious world and the world where my reverie state lies.  
  
My eyebrows draw together in a frown and I just about manage to stifle the groan that came with this next piece of not-so-pleasant knowledge.  
  
Glorfindel will not allow me to live this particular episode down for a long time.  
  
"'Restor!" Two completely new voices all but shout not a fingers length away from my ear and I almost wince. Almost.  
  
So startled as I am (yes, I am), I do what my training taught me.  
  
My free hand moves un-noticed by my still un-seen companion and latches itself not fatally but warningly at neck of the figure to my left. The one that deemed it necessary to burst my ear drum.  
  
Without thinking, I kick my legs out and in a well-practised manoeuvre only I seem to best my dearest 'Fin at, I sweep my still-locked-at-the-neck companion's feet from under him (I hear the unmistakable grunt of a male- elf). My hand never loosens on the neck as I twist myself (at the risk of sounding egotistical) with an air of expertise, if I do say so myself, and I feel my left leg swiftly come into contact with another ankle. I don't stop to think but mentally note that I am faced with three assailants.  
  
I know them all. This fact does not discourage me in the slightest.  
  
They need to be taught a lesson, quite obviously.  
  
I tug hard at my wrist and succeed in freeing it. As I do this, I crack open one of my closed eyes and see my left hand securely latched onto the neck of one dark-haired elf. I see another dark-haired elf regaining his footing and the only light-haired elf of the group looked more stunned than anything.  
  
I smirk inwardly.  
  
With a light jump, I release my hold on the elf's neck and land atop the large boulder in a crouched defensive position. My robes are more of a hindrance than a help if truth be told.  
  
"'Fin, did you never learn that one should never tickle a sleeping dragon?" I ask, a mask of innocence across my features. That topping the defensive crouch must look quite the picture. The light-haired elf faltered in his answer a moment before narrowing his eyes.  
  
It wasn't him who answered though.  
  
The dark-haired elf that I could have easily choked to death.  
  
"'Restor, you're not a dragon." The Elf drawled with an air of sarcastic superiority. I raise an eyebrow in question.  
  
"A valid point young Elrohir. But would you fight me?" I note with great satisfaction that Elrohir paled a number of shades in 3 seconds. I hear the fair-haired elf stifle a laugh and rounded on him. "'Fin, my friend, you are well aware that you would not last long with me either." The laughing stopped abruptly. I stand up on the boulder and straighten my robes.  
  
"Now if we were to have a small battle of skill with the bow and arrow... though I am good, I'm naught compared to the skill our dearest Glorfindel holds within him." The fair-haired elf beams proudly and I decide to cut to the proverbial chase. "Why was I awoken in such a rude manner?" The three elves below me at least have the decency to look slightly abashed; the twins far more than Glorfindel but that is to be expected. 'Fin could never resist an opportunity to test my nerves.  
  
"Our apologies 'Restor." Elladan speaks, still massaging his neck. I assume he was the one I my left hand came into contact with. "We heard Ada and the Istar speaking in hushed tones." He explains.  
  
"Quite hushed." Elrohir adds.  
  
"Not hushed enough." The other twin grins. "They spoke little of the meeting. Ada spoke of Black speech being spoken."  
  
"And we knew you were at the meeting. And we were worried." To an outsider, the way the twins talk would be confusing... but after so many hundred years one gets used to it.  
  
"Naturally." Elladan finishes and I must admit that I'm touched at their thoughtfulness. I smile at them in thanks.  
  
"I thank you for your concern." My momentary forgetful lapse is gone and the memories of times passed, the meeting, the language... they all flood back. Yet, I do not allow it to show on my face.  
  
"Are you well 'Restor?" Elrohir asks. I smile and take a small step forward. I land on slightly bended knees in front of my three companions then straighten up.  
  
"I am well, Elrohir." I say. They look sceptical and I cannot blame them. Had any of them been in the position I am in now, said what I had just said, I would argue that they were lying. Of course, they say nothing. I will be hearing of this deception from Glorfindel in the morrow no doubt.  
  
"Another thing 'Restor." Elladan speaks. "Ada wishes to speak with you." I nod and turn to leave, only to be stopped by Glorfindel's voice.  
  
"I also would not be shocked to find our little Princeling amongst those who seek your council this night 'Restor." I scowl, not looking back because I know that if I do I will see three highly amused elves staring at me.  
  
"If the Prince wishes to speak with me he knows where I rest." I say curtly and walk away, ignoring the gentle snickers that follow me.  
  
For the first time in many hours, my mind swarms with pleasant memories of times passed. Well, as pleasant as they can be when a young, fair-haired elfling going by the name Legolas Greenleaf thought it would be amusing to throw coloured pigment over my hair.  
  
Not even 15 years was he at the time... the top of his head barely reached my hip, but he remained a terror to mind. I am proud to say, I never gave the Prince an art lesson when he visited this Valley with his Father again.  
  
The incident was a millennia ago. I still have not lived it down.

* * *

Thank you to the people who reviewed. It means a lot, really. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Review!!  
  
Thank you! 


	4. Dance

[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]  
  


A Counselor's Musings – Dance.  


* * *

Lord Elrond wishes to speak with me. It is odd that I do not wish to speak with him, nor do I plan on seeking him out. As immature at is may sound: if my Lord wishes to speak with me this night, he will have to find me first. I care not. If he finds me, he finds me. There will be nothing I can do.  
  
Although I would say the same for the Prince of Mirkwood, if he finds me, I will not openly avoid his questioning. Barely under four thousand years younger than myself he may be, but he is still a Prince among Elves.  
  
My feet carry me to a clearing that I my mind registers as the practise range used by the elves that protect the borders of Imladris... as well as the few, like myself, that use the range for recreational purposes. I cannot count the number of hours I have spent here with Glorfindel practising the skill of the bow an arrow, as well as teaching it to others.  
  
"Erestor are you lost?" A voice startles me. I snap my head around in the direction it came from and narrow my eyes slightly. I see the Mirkwood Princeling stood by a rock. His weapons are stood on the ground; leaning against said rock, save for his long bow and one sole arrow.  
  
"Nay My Lord." I incline my head in silent greeting before moving closer to the royal Elf. My companion shakes his head, chuckling at what I can only assume to be my attitude to him.  
  
"Erestor we are friends. Formalities are not needed now and you are well aware of that fact." He smiles brightly at me and I can't help the grin that works its way across my face.  
  
"Very well. How fare you this night 'young Princeling'?" My grin broadened as the Prince scowls, a light blush tingeing his cheeks. Who am I to pass up such a delightful opportunity? My face is set in a mask of pure innocence; I even make my grin lack any sinful quality. The Princeling, however, is far from impressed.  
  
"I gave you leeway to lose your formal tongue, not gain an insolent one." He grumbles. Most un-elf like, I must say. I start walking towards him, my feet marking nothing of my path as I go.  
  
"Had you defined your meanings as such, I would have paid them heed. Alas, you did not, so can you truly blame me for letting slip this wondrous chance to see the grown Prince of Mirkwood blush?" The Prince sighs dramatically, realising he doesn't have an appropriately witty retort to grant me. I bow my head mockingly at him. "I will no longer refer to you as Princeling this night if that would please you."  
  
"It would."  
  
"Then it shall be so." I stop walking when I reach his side. I lean down and pick up the pair of white-knives he is known for carrying. I know for a fact that he is a master at using them defensively and the few opportunities we have had to spar with one another, I have had only praise to offer him for his technique. Whatever the outcome of the spar.  
  
I turn my head to look at him, a questioning eyebrow cocked slightly.  
  
"May I?"  
  
He nods and I lean further to grasp the handles of the exquisite weapons.  
  
I move a little away from the Prince and re-position my hold on the knives. The handles seem specifically designed for the palms of their owner so my grip is not perfect, but my positioning is far from flawed. I test the weight carefully; try a few practise manoeuvres before I launch into action. I dance a fierce, deathly dance. My moves are synchronised, perfectly timed and each thrust, turn and swing could mean death for any possible opponent.  
  
I feel an odd sense of content here as I dance. It is not that I miss battle; I know my abilities are slightly more advanced than most and that I know I 'could' be of use to those on the border patrols... I simply do not want to put myself in a position where I would be watching my kin perish once more.  
  
That thought makes me stop in my tracks. My arms still as the knives cross in front of me and my eyes are locked on the sharpened tips.  
  
Once more.  
  
I have been there before. And I do not want to go back.  
  
"Erestor?" I can hear Legolas' voice. Completely different than Glorfindel's but equally melodic.  
  
I school my features before turning to the Prince. My expression softens however at the concerned look on my friend's face.  
  
"I am fine Legolas. I merely slipped into a memory." With a practised flick of both wrists, I offer the Prince the handles of both knives. He takes them without question and with a small smile.  
  
"You dance well, Mellonamin." He speaks, voice laden with unabashed awe. The compliment causes my lips to twitch at the edges.  
  
"I've been fighting a might longer than most, my Prince." I say as simple explanation.  
  
"Too long." He says softly. "You hold within you many years of memory. I do not doubt that at least one of those memories, you wish you did not hold, yet you continue holding. You continue living."  
  
He picks up his weapons and joins me. We start walking side by side towards the House of Elrond.  
  
"You are still young Legolas, and although the Elves are leaving these shores, you have much to learn. You will gain your own memories, both pleasant and painful. Do not trouble yourself with mine."  
  
"I do not hope to, I am merely here for you should you need to talk."  
  
Coming from another at his age I would raise an eyebrow, smile indulgently and offer my thanks while attempting to keep the patronising tone from my voice. But with Legolas, I find myself truly smiling and my tone is of sincerity.  
  
"Thank you for your kind words. They mean much to me." I say and he nods his head, trying, I know, not to beam at me. "The memories that surfaced today are harsh, but I have lived with them for many-a-millennia and I will continue living with them."  
  
We draw to a halt outside my chamber doors, surprising not only myself but Legolas also. How had we managed to get to this point so quickly?  
  
"Erestor before you go in..." The Prince hesitates a moment before seemingly coming to an internal decision. "I would just like to stress that I meant what I said earlier: I am here should you need to talk to someone..." he granted me a crooked smile, "Outside 'The Last Homely House'."  
  
I chuckle and draw the younger elf into an embrace he returns warmly. We stand stationed in this position for a few moments before I draw away, keeping my hands settled on his shoulders while his hands remove themselves from their position clutching my robes.  
  
I smile at him and he returns it happily.  
  
"I offer you the same invitation my Prince. Should you ever need to talk, I will be here to listen." I lay my hands either side of his face and draw him close to me. I lean forward and place upon his forehead a light kiss. "You are wise beyond your years." I say. "I am proud to call you my friend."  
  
"And I you."  
  
He sends me one last smile before he pulls away from me completely and walks down the dimly lit corridor and away from my chamber doors.  
  
I shake my head fondly, turn around, unlock and open my door. I walk in the room and close the door behind me.  
  
Inside I see my customary living space. A small room by comparison to most in the... well, I suppose one could call my home a Palace of sorts, but it does me well enough. Two fair-sized arm chairs are stationed by the already- lit fire place with a small table (a stack of documents, a quill and a vial of ink on its surface) separating them. The walls, I decorated with numerous art works I've collected over my long years, most of which were made by Elrohir, Elladan and Arwen.  
  
I see the two other doors on the wall opposite the fire place; one, I know leads to my bed-chambers and the other to my private bathing room. They two, have art work on their walls.  
  
I walk over to a table that holds on its surface a decanter, three quarters full of a golden liquid, and two wine glasses of Elven design. I pick up the decanter, remove the stopper and pour myself half a glass of the substance I know as a honeyed wine that was given to me as a gift from Glorfindel.  
  
I pick up my glass and bring it to my lips, taking a small sip. The sip is enough to remind me why I like this wine so much. Its sweetness lingers on my tongue as the liquid flows easily down my throat. But after a few seconds, the back of my throat is hit with an almost, but not quite, acidic tang that balances the sweetness perfectly.  
  
I smile in satisfaction and turn around, walking towards the table that is situated between the two arm chairs. I set my glass quietly on the table top and take a seat. I sit with my legs folded under me, but slightly to the side so I'm almost leaning against the arm of the chair. When I'm comfortable, I reach down to grasp the stack of documents.  
  
As soon I am sitting comfortably with the documents in my lap and my glass in hand, there is a soft knock at my door. I sigh and place my glass and the documents back on the table. I uncurl myself, walk towards the door and with another sigh, I open it.  
  
When I see who knocked, I want to close it again but I know it will do me no good. I inwardly groan.  
  
"Mae govannen, Lord Elrond." I say, both my tone and my face schooled.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as I did writing it... despite all hitches along the way. Review!  
  
Thank you! 


	5. Outburst

[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]   
  


A Counsellor's Musings – Outburst  


* * *

I don't invite him in. Again, it is extremely rude but I do not wish to speak, why should I make things easier for him? My logic is that of a 20 year old elfling. I am painfully aware of this yet I do not seem to care in the slightest.  
  
He is looking at me expectantly and I look back, eyes locked, unwavering. On any normal occasion I would not hesitate to grant my Lord access to my chambers but these are hardly what one could call normal circumstances. He blinks and looks away sharply and I allow myself but a moment of grim satisfaction at having won this round.  
  
"Was there something I could aid you with My Lord?" I ask, knowing full I have just offered the opening I know he will take. I sometimes miss the day when my life was my own and I answered to no one. Alas, that day was lost when I left my homeland in search of 'New Dwellings'. To become a Trainer of Arms and Tutor to those few Elfing's born into the Royal household was not exactly on the top of my mental list of hopes for life, but it was a start and grew to be a pleasure.  
  
"Yes, Erestor, there is." He says, sounding every inch of official stature his being possess'. "May I join you?" I contemplate denying him access but he is My Lord Elrond and I will do what I must to accommodate him. However much I dislike the timing.  
  
"It is your choice My Lord." Who said I was to make things easy for him? I should, without a doubt, start acting the age I am. Truly, I should. And I will... Some day that, for the sake of my sanity, is not today.  
  
I step aside and wait for him to enter. As he walks across the threshold, I start to close the door and as I do so, I notice him striding, almost gliding towards the table where the decanter of wine still sits with the empty wine glass at its side.  
  
I turn around to face him when the door is firmly shut and see him looking at me, holding the decanter in one hand and the glass in the other. I incline my head and he takes it as a sign that he can invade my wine decanter and soil my clean wine glass. I hadn't the heart to tell him my inclination of the head meant I wish to be alone and preferably not talk about anything to anyone this evening.  
  
It is made clear to me that my stony persona is doing anything but discouraging My Lord Elrond so I sigh, giving in to the inevitable and re- take my seat in the arm chair I'd only just vacated. I made a sweeping gesture with my right hand for the other elf to take the opposite seat. I watched as Lord Elrond moved with the grace my kin are known throughout the lands for as he sat down, my spare, not soiled, wine glass in hand.  
  
"Erestor." He says, and I can 'hear' the sympathetic glint to his tone. It curls the deepest regions of my insides to hear it, I cannot help but avert my eyes so I'm staring now at the blazing fire. He mistakes my movement for one of guilt and I can see how he might think such a thing. Though it makes me rethink how much My Lord Elrond actually knows me. "Why would you of all Elves at that meeting, rise from your seat and walk out as you did?" He knows, I know he knows... I answer him nonetheless.  
  
"As utterly odd as it may sound, Lord Elrond, I left because I could not be near the Istar a moment longer than I was. For if I did in fact, choose to stay to listen to the remainder of the meeting, I would have surely done something I would more than likely regret now." My voice takes on a very un- elf-like mocking tone the twins would be proud of. That thought alone causes me to inwardly smile. "I do not ask you pardon, My Lord. My actions were justified, as I'm sure the Istar's were." I hear him sigh and I find it strange that I do nothing to ease his obvious internal distress.  
  
"The Istar had his reasons, Erestor as you well know." My eyes flash, I feel them do so as they lock with Elrond's. Forgo the 'Lord', now, he is just Elrond. My hand grips my glass tightly.  
  
"Well if the Istar has reasons; let us all bow down to him now then shall we?" My voice is thick with sarcasm even my inner-self winces. "He was not here in the last Alliance, he does not know more than what the records state. What in the name of Valar gives him the right... the audacity to step into Imladris, an ELVEN HOME LAND NO LESS, and speak that tongue? Who gave him that right Elrond? WHO?" I realise I am pacing now, my glass long forgotten as it lies on its side on the carpeted section of the floor by the hearth of the fireplace where I dropped it.  
  
"You were there before! You know what it was like; you know the things we ALL witnessed. And yet you stood and listened to him recite that vile and disgusting language and accept it when he begs not even for pardon?" He doesn't move from the seat though his eyes follow my every movement. "How many of our kin died in that final battle? How many died being tortured listening to that speech? How many died from orders uttered in that tongue?"  
  
"You know how many perished, Erestor." He answers almost too quiet for me to hear. If not for my Elven ears I would not have heard.  
  
"AND HOW MANY WILL YET DIE?" I roar, he winces. "Your sons? Your daughter?" His head snaps up and his eyes narrow. I am finally gauging a reaction, I feel no satisfaction however. "GLORFINDEL? Would you see our oldest friend, our brother sent to Mandos for a second time?" There are tears flowing freely down my face I realise. I do not remember when they first sprung free from their confines.  
  
"Erestor..." He tries to speak... no doubt un-used to seeing me in such an emotional state. I cannot blame him.  
  
"No. Elrond, no. I have had enough. 5147 years, Elrond. Five thousand, one hundred and forty-seven years I've walked the shores of Middle-Earth. I was born when the Lord Celeborn came into his majority at the age of 100 - as too was I there when the fair Lady Galadriel came to that age. I watched you grow up from afar, I watched you as Herald of King Gil-Galad, I saw your relationship with him, I saw your reaction when he fell, both Glorfindel and myself helped you ease out of your depression, we witnessed you falling in love once more, and we watched you father three beautiful, talented children... Then we watched as you sank into depression once more when Lady Celebrian left for Valinor." I pause, over-whelmed myself at the words pouring from my mouth.  
  
"In the last Alliance Elves lost a lot. I lost my mother and my sister, to torture at the hands of a band of orcs, I lost my father in the battle that Gil-Galad fell, and I lost my brothers in the final battle. I lost everything I held close to my heart by the order of that tongue and you allow its speech here in Imladris." The last word uttered was uttered as a mere whisper. I am now stood in front of the only window in this room. My arms hang limp at my sides and my forehead rests upon the glass making my weariness clear to the elf behind me.  
  
"Erestor." He speaks after what seems like an age but is not even a minute. "I understand Mellonamin." He takes the place beside me and I feel his hand rest on my shoulder. But as much as I want to, I do not lean into it. No, instead, I step away from him.  
  
"With all respect, just and due... you understand nothing My Lord." When I speak, I look him directly in the eye. "Had my loyalties lain anywhere other than to this land, I would have left for Valinor at the beginning of the third age. You have shown me kindness and friendship, your sons keep my spirits high, your daughter keeps my heart from freezing," I can tell he is shocked by my confessions but I continue.  
  
"Both Glorfindel and Legolas keep me sane... I will say my farewell to him before he departs with the Fellowship, I will bid my farewell to all who helped me survive all these long years, and then when the first ship set's sail, heading into the West, I shall be aboard." With these words spoken, I turn on my heel and exit my chambers.

* * *

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I started it, wrote a few paragraphs and then left it for a while. When I came back to it however, I wrote and wrote and just kept going until I deemed it fit for viewing. T'was a joy to write.  
  
I hope you enjoyed it. Review!!  
  
Thank you! 


	6. Goodbye

[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]  
  
A Counsellor's Musings - Goodbye.

* * *

The direction I am walking in completely eludes me. I just know that wherever I am walking it's away from Elrond. I have been walking for a turn of the hour glass but this fact does not startle me. If I am honest with myself, I am glad I have had this time to allow a cool to settle my anger. I would do no one a favorsom deed should I have met them in the enraged state I was in when I exited my chambers.  
  
It took me the time it takes the hour glass to half empty to realise I Was being followed. Granted, it was from afar and discreet but one never likes to be followed. I suspect however, that whoever it is, is merely watching over me; perhaps to keep me from doing something richly idiotic. I almost snorted at that thought alone! If I had had the mind to do something even remotely 'richly idiotic', I doubt even Glorfindel could restrain me.  
  
Alas, my silent and distant escort needn't have bothered, as I am not in a suicidal state of being at this particular moment in time.  
  
I stop my brisk walk and settle myself on one of the corner stone benches in the western courtyard of the 'Palace'. I sit and wait for my mystery stalker to show himself, or indeed, herself as the wide spectrum of stalkers are not settled solely on the one sex. When the figure draws closer to the wider reaches of my senses, I smile, realising who it is that has decided to play 'Stalk Erestor' this evening.  
  
"Estel!" I call out to the Heir to the throne of Gondor, urging him to come out into the night's light. I hear a warm chuckle emanate from the evergreen shrubbery to my left and I find it difficult not to smile in return.  
  
"I could never fool you 'Restor." The ranger grinned at me. My smile transformed into a mocking smirk.  
  
"No one ever can, Estel." I remind him, not bothering to disguise the playful smugness in my voice. "I have the benefit of Five Millennia of experience however; one should not feel discourages when caught out by one as old as I." I gesture for my companion to take a sea beside me.  
  
"May I ask you a question 'Restor?" He asks, breaking no more than a minutes worth of comfortable silence.  
  
"You may at that, young Estel." I incline my head in his direction, motioning him to continue with his question.  
  
"What are you running from?" He asks. The question itself seems completely and utterly innocent, devoid of abnormalities or imperfections. The answer I would have for him however...  
  
"When one has lived as lone as I... one forgets they are running, yet they continue still, no mind to what it was one started running from in the first instance." I answer, as smoothly and as evasive as ever. He expects as much and seems to sense that I wish to talk no more of such things. He changes the subject.  
  
"When the Elves start to depart these shores, will you join them?" He questions and again, it is a mass of innocence. Still, I cannot help the anguished sigh escape my lips. "Erestor?"  
  
"I will be leaving for Valinor with the first departing ship." I say, not looking at him, but up at the night sky. "I have called this land home for many-a-year and I no longer feel that I can call it such. In a sordid, shallow way, it is spoiled. Black speech plagues my mind and everywhere I turn I hear the Istar reciting it. No longer can I bare it." I can practically 'feel' the next question on his lips. "Nay, Estel. The sea has not called to me recently." Another question waiting.  
  
My, I do not believe this ranger has ever asked me so much during his entire stay here in Imladris.  
  
"T'was the night before Gil-Galad fell. I ignored its mournful cries, its deafening wails, its pitiful calls... I ignored it all for I was to aid Lord Elrond through his grief. I know that now." I smile wistfully. "But now, no call has the sea sent for me. My call was sent over two-thousand years ago, the sea does not repeat. It offers guidance. I will travel to Valinor upon my own will." We sit in another comfortable silence for a number of minutes before once again.  
  
"Estel, be warned." I'm changing the subject. "Should you hurt Lady Arwen in any way known to you or I, I will not hesitate to seek justice." There is a seriousness to my tone that does not go unnoticed; it tells my companion that I am certainly not jesting.  
  
"She is, to me, a brothers-daughter. My niece, not by blood but by something that means just as much, and I care for her deeply. Her heart is as pure as her mothers and her mind is as stubborn as her fathers. That being so, should she come to harm, I care not that I will be in Valinor, you will suffer. Do you understand?" I finally turn to him and see that all colour has drained from his face. I barely manage to suppress a smile.  
  
"I understand well Erestor. I will never knowingly hurt Arwen." I nod my acceptance and rise from my seat.  
  
"Excuse me Estel, I mean not to be rude, but I have many things to complete before this night is over. May your night be pleasant and your dreams be free from the impending dark." With that said, I turn and walk away.  
  
I find myself, not long after leaving Estel, outside the first of six stable houses we hold here in Imladris. I know from past experience that the twins often occupy this area at this time of the night and on the rare occasion Glorfindel will show his fair-haired-head too. But this night I send a silent prayer to the Valar, asking them that I will find only the twins in the stable house this night.  
  
I compose myself and step through the unlocked stable door.  
  
Inside I see the same eleven compartments I've seen since these houses were first built. Five compartments line each side of the house, each one holding its own horse. The final compartment by far the larger of them all as it houses Elrond's steed.  
  
This house is also home to my own stallion, the twins' horses, Glorfindel's and Arwen's. These five are housed in the five compartments that run down the left of the houses interior. The final five are reserved for special guests such as the Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn and their Marchwarden as well as Legolas and Estel or any other.  
  
As I step over the threshold, I stop to allow my eyes to adjust to the torchlight. Focus now corrected, I look around in search for the two figures I came to find. And find them I do. The twins are sat among the hay- stacks that are piled up against the far wall. It takes me a moment longer to notice the bruising that is on what looks to be Elladan's neck and I feel my eyes widen slowly in realisation.  
  
"Elladan!" I call out sharply as I stride forward. Both twins look up at me with a start and I see them share a confused look. I stop in front of them and reach out to grasp Elladan's chin firmly but not painfully. I tilt his head backwards slightly so I can see the bruising clearly in the light.  
  
The Elf in my grasp seems to realise what I am looking at because he tried to back away from me and cover up the marks but my hold is firm. I study the sore area carefully and gasp in horror when I see the unmistakable shape of a hand, as if it had been printed on with ink.  
  
"Why did you not tell me?" I demand, eyes flashing with worry. "I did not realise I had hold of you that hard." I am still trying to look at the injured flesh when I feel a hand settle itself on my shoulder. I instinctively tense up, ready to attack the one at my back but I remember... Elrohir is here also. I release my hold on Elladan's chin but do not step away.  
  
"I... we did not want to worry you 'Restor. We know you meant no harm to me when it happened and had I told you, you would have done exactly what you are doing now: cursing yourself for not being careful, blaming yourself for not realising it before." Elladan explains.  
  
"Then you know me too well, Elladan." I say to him, my eyes never leaving the marred skin. "But why did you not seek a healing salve in the halls?" I ask, near frantic. The looks that adorn their faces tell me that I am behaving in a manner that is not my own.  
  
Elrohir is the first to rouse from his stupor.  
  
"'Restor please!" He cries, almost harshly I falter. "You must calm yourself!" He his guiding me down to sit beside his brother and I do not fight him. "Elladan is fine 'Restor. We are all fine, no one is hurt." I am far too tense to scald the twin on his blatant lie.  
  
I breathe in deeply, and then breathe out slowly. I continue this for a few moments more until I am calm enough to talk again without becoming hysterical.  
  
"I am sorry." I say, my head resting in my hands and my elbows resting on my robe covered knees. "I have been out of battle for so long that I forget the extent of my on strength sometimes. I apologise Elladan, for any hurt I have caused you." I hear both brothers chuckle lightly.  
  
"'Restor how many more times must I repeat myself? I am fine, you need not apologise. Though I would not say no to a lesson in combat from you instead of 'Fin." I snort with laughter despite myself and raise my head once more, meeting eyes with both twins. I sigh, leaning back against the hay behind me.  
  
"I came down here this night to speak with both of you." They sit on either side of me, waiting patiently for me to continue. "When I left you, I met with Legolas. We spoke for a while and I retreated to my chambers for the evening. Not five minutes after I had entered my rooms, your father knocked on my doors. When he entered, we spoke. Or rather, he gave me an opening and I vented my frustrations, my concerns... the concerns that had been building up inside since the council meeting.  
  
"If I were to cut this tale short, I would tell you that I spoke to him a tired elf. I drained myself mentally and emotionally." I see them looking at me, confusion written across each of their faces. "I cannot stay here much longer." I say finally. "I will be leaving these shores with the first ship raises its sails."  
  
They say nothing. Why do they say nothing? Why do they remain silent? It is frustrating waiting for a reaction from those around you when you have spoken something like I have done. Frustrating indeed.  
  
"Why?" Elrohir whispers, staring at me with wide eyes that are slowly filling with salted liquid. I tear my eyes away, feeling them too filling with a similar liquid.  
  
"I can no longer be here in Imladris." I start to explain. "The words the Istar uttered earlier this day haunt me to an extent that I feel as though every step I take is taken on soiled ground." They are too shocked at my words to speak. "A reaction such as this to a mere language should give you an insight into my feelings. It is a vile tongue that brings nothing but hurt, pain and torment. I cannot remain here." I whisper the last statement as I feel the twins wind their arms around me and pull me into and embrace that reminds me of why I live.  
  
I am loved, and I love in return.

* * *

This chapter was fun to write so I hope you all enjoy it. What isn't noted at the top is that this chapter is chapter "6a". So there will be no chapter 7, just A and B... and possibly C. It depends on the length really. Review!!  
  
Thank you!  



	7. Goodbye b

[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]  
  
A Counsellor's Musings – Goodbye (b).

* * *

A half a turn of the hourglass after I have entered the stable house, the twins released me from their crushing embrace. They explained to me that they themselves would be making their way to Valinor on the final ship to raise its sails and depart these shores.  
  
I explained to them, they must do what they must to aid in this war. I told them that my war was over, it ended at the birth of the Third Age and I could not hope to bring much help to the people of Middle-Earth in this war.  
  
Explanations voiced, I left the twins to their devices. I vacated the stables and started the walk back to the Palace.  
  
My walk is not as brisk as it was when I first exited my chambers but it is no mere stroll either. The destination I have in mind at this moment is that of Lady Arwen's chambers. Lord Elrond would have me not say Good bye to his daughter, for he believes she will sail from this land with her people. I would not wish to know the heart of Lady Arwen better than her own father, but I know she will stay with her love.  
  
So it with this in mind, that I walk. I turn a corner and come to the corridor upon which her room resides. As I reach her door I raise my hand, clenched in a fist, and bring it down, softly rapping twice on the wooden barricade.  
  
I am left waiting outside Lady Arwen's chambers all of five seconds before her door opens, revealing her dressed in the gown she must have worn for the feast that was to take place after the Council meeting. I see her smile brilliantly (not an ounce am I vain, she truly did) as she recognises me and cannot help but return the gesture.  
  
I incline my head by way of silent greeting and see her roll her eyes towards the heavens.  
  
"'Restor." She admonishes playfully. "You are always so formal. Please, come in." She steps away from the archway and waits for me to fully enter her chambers before closing the door behind us.  
  
"You wish for me to rid myself of my formal air, My Lady?" I ask with an innocent smile playing on my lips. The she-elf before me laughs.  
  
"By the Valar, should you rid yourself of your formalities dear 'Restor, you would no longer be 'Restor would you?" She teases lightly. I chuckle and we both take an arm chair by the fire place. "As much as these crossed words please me, I suspect that light banter was not the reason for your visit." She smiles at me and I cannot help but think I will more than likely be the reason for her losing that smile in the very near future.  
  
"Nay, of course, you are correct." I say. "My reason for being here this night is, in essence, to bid you farewell." She looks at me with confusion written over her flawless features.  
  
"Farewell, 'Restor? But why would you visit me with the intention of..." her words cease slipping from her mouth and I watch as realisation washes over her face. "You are leaving." She whispers and for the first time in three hundred years, I see fear fill her eyes. "NO!" She cries. "No 'Restor! You cannot leave!" She rises from her seat and starts pacing the length of the room.  
  
"Arwen," I start but a wave of her hand silences me.  
  
"No! You, of all Elves here in Imladris, cannot leave." She declares. "You cannot leave me! Please 'Restor!" She begs, her eyes bore into my own, pleading silently with me.  
  
"Arwen, calm yourself!" I cry, my voice a glint sharper than I had intended it to be.  
  
She starts at the tone, takes her seat once more and looks at me with tear- filled, fear laden eyes. I immediately soften under the gaze. "My dearest Arwen, this will be harsh for you to hear, but I feel you need to hear it. You need not me as much now as you need your father's approval of your choice regarding Estel." I say softly. "Do not mistake the approval I have given you for the approval your father has yet to bestow upon your relationship."  
  
"I would never!" She exclaims. My words were harsh, as I predicted. "Mistake not my need for your person, 'Restor! I need you as I have always needed you; as a friend! As moral-support! As-''  
  
"As an older, wiser figure that offer you approval where your father does not!" I cut her tirade short. "Give him the time he seeks, My Lady. Give him the time he needs to see with both eyes open what a proud, self- assured, intelligent, beautiful daughter he has. Give him the time to see that allowing you to follow your hearts desires is the only way you can truly be joyful in your lifetime." I smile at her. "And if that means you sacrificing your immortality, then let that be so."  
  
I see her rise from her seat again and I rise from my own, remaining at eye level with her.  
  
"'Restor." She speaks, her voice almost choking with emotion. "I want you here, at my side when I wed." I pull her into an emotional embrace.  
  
"You know that I will be there when you wed. I will be there in spirit and in heart. If I could stay here in Middle-earth, I would be there when you wed, I would be there to watch your children grow, I would be there to tutor them as I did their parents... but I cannot remain here." I pause to gather my scattered thoughts.  
  
"For too long have I remained in these lands when over two thousand years ago, I heard my call. Too long have I evaded the call by keeping my concerns elsewhere. I cannot wait any longer  
  
"The ground I walk is no longer pure; the air I breathe is polluted." I sigh. "It is only the company I am close with that keeps me sane now. You, my dear, you have kept my heart warm with your joyous ways. Your family feels like it is my own. Glorfindel and your father are my brothers.  
  
"I do not want to leave you but I truly must. My time here is over. I sail west with the first ship."  
  
I pull out of the embrace and hold my brother's daughter at arms length. I see her tear-stained cheeks and her red-rimmed eyes and I see the love she holds in her heart purely for me. I know that she sees the same when she looks into my own eyes.  
  
"'Restor." She sobs. "I do not want you to leave."  
  
"I know you do not. But deep within your Elven heart, you know I must."  
  
It is Arwen this time that initiates our embrace.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Review!!  
  
Thank you! 


	8. Tela

[[Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this here story.]]  
  


A Counsellor's Musings – Goodbye(c).

* * *

I slowly rouse form my reverie. Three turns of the hour-glass have I been laid under the blankets of my bed in my reverie state. Physically, I am rested and ready for what this day may yet chose to throw in my direction. Although, if I am to be honest with myself, I am forced to admit that emotionally, I am as drained as the empty wine glasses that are more than likely sitting on the table in my living area by the pile of unsigned documents, waiting for me to clean them and set them back in their rightful place at the win decanter's side.  
  
I rise from my horizontal position to sit upright as I gather the bearings I seemed to have misplaced during my reverie. As I rise however, I notice I am not alone. I roll my eyes towards the heavens and inwardly groan at my friend's intrusion.  
  
Sighing, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and push the covers away from my midsection. On my person, I don naught but a pair of loose and comfortable sleep leggings. The leggings are an aged white colour and are held up by a long tie that has been sewed into the waist band. When tied, it makes an effective belt. The leggings end at the point where my heel touches the floor, riding up slightly now as I am currently seated.  
  
"Was there something you wanted to ask me 'Fin? I'm sure the view of my back is very appealing, though not your usual entertainment source." I ask, rising from the bed. I lean over to grasp a white ribbon from the table at my bedside and pull my hair back. I use the ribbon to tie it as securely as I can manage.  
  
"During my rounds yesternight, I stumbled across the twins." Glorfindel finally speaks, his voice holding no trace of the smile I 'know' was on his face when I spoke first. His words do not shock me, but they do not do anything to alleviate the glimmer of anxiety I'm feeling at this moment.  
  
Walking over to the wash basin located beneath the window, I nod for him to continue. I dip my hands in the water and find it, thankfully, at the perfect temperature: a notch or too warmer than lukewarm.  
  
"They mentioned," He continues. "That they had received some news that saddened them greatly." It pains me to the very core of my being to think I have caused the twins and Arwen to become sad. But short of going back on my words, there is very little I can do about the matter now. "When I enquired as to what precisely the sad news was, they made a valiant effort in trying to turn my interest elsewhere. They used, I suspect, every evasion technique they have ever used but with my interest already piqued, I withstood their efforts until they gave in to the inevitable and told me what I wanted to know.  
  
"Or rather, they pointed me in the direction I could find out what I wanted to know." I hear him move around the room, making his way towards me. "Now the twins are rarely displeased and it is on an even rarer occasion that they are sad. Though having said that, I know they have each other for comfort so they will not lose themselves to sadness." He stops behind me. "No. What worries me is why they sent me to you to receive the answers I sought."  
  
The liquid soap I pour on my hands holds the scent of Clyriol (a herb generally used to sweeten things whilst cooking) and the faintest wisp of Rosewire (a shrub that grows only in the woods of Lorien). I splash a small amount of water onto the pool of soap and rub my hands together, lathering them up. Bringing my lathered hands to my face, I begin to wash.  
  
I feel him pull the locks of my hair that saw fit to work their way from the ribbon and hold them back for me while I wash.  
  
As I finish, I reach for the drying cloth I know is hung on a small hook attached to the wall to the side of the window. I take hold of the cloth and with a flick of my wrist, have it unhooked and already making its journey from the wall to my face.  
  
"Never was it my intent to sadden them with my news." I try to justify what I did, more for my own benefit than Glorfindel's but whether 'Fin chooses to believe me or not, I feel my words are as poison as the Istar's speech was black, spilling from my tongue. "The words I used were not of the joyous variety." He released my hair, taking the ribbon with him and I move to seat myself at the vanity. I pick up a comb and begin to work it through my hair. The first swipe however, is a touch rougher than I had intended it to be.  
  
"And what words were they 'Restor?" He asked me. I sigh and allow him to take the comb from my hand as he had quite obviously decided to comb through my hair himself.  
  
"You no more want me to answer that than you wanted to ask it, my friend." I say, letting my eyelids drop, just feeling his fingers run through my dark tresses, following the comb as it works its magic.  
  
"True enough. I do not want you to answer how I know you will, but I fear greatly that I need to hear the words come from your lips alone." He tells me and I know he speaks no word of an untruth.  
  
"My words to the twins were long and full of emotion. To repeat them word for word to you now would take a time too much." I sigh, giving in to the fact that he will not let this alone. "In essence, I told them that I was leaving Imladris, and Middle-earth, with the first ship to raise its sails." I feel the comb pause its movements briefly and start moving again a moment after it stopped. "'Fin, I have been through much. Lost too much.  
  
"You are my brother. And I could not bare it if I were to leave these shores and there be ill words between us." My words are truly spoken. If I leave having not resolved these harsh matters with him, I do not think I will survive the trip to Valinor. "You know I must leave 'Fin."  
  
"Not yestermorn were you willing to wait with Lord Elrond to sail when he sails." He says and yestermorn I was indeed willing to wait with Lord Elrond to sail with him. But it is no longer yestermorn. "What has changed Mellonamin?"  
  
His fingers flutter with practised ease and precision as they work my hair into what would no doubt become an elaborate maze of twists, turns, knows and braids. I know that when I leave my chambers this morn and my hair is in full view, others will automatically know Glorfindel is responsible. As usually, I have but two simple warrior braids worked in.  
  
When the twins and Arwen were growing up, it confused them to see that I, their father's chief counsellor, wore warrior braids instead of the braids in... Lindir's hair for example.  
  
I realise he is waiting for a reply. How I could lose myself in thoughts regarding my hair is beyond me.  
  
"My decision to leave earlier than previously planned was not based on any particular thing." I lie. I know it is a blatant lie and so does Glorfindel. He does not fall for my less than honest evasion. I see him raise an eyebrow at me in the mirror of the vanity and I crumble. "Glorfindel please!" I cry, purposely using his full name. I simply do not need to think on this at the moment. I cannot!  
  
"Do not make me think on it! Already have I decided to leave these lands... decided to leave my home! I beg you; do not force me into a war for my sanity." His hands knead my shoulders in an attempt to melt, or at the very least ease my inner aches. And to an extent, he is succeeding.  
  
"The wall you have kept your past behind is breaking, 'Restor." He says. "The Istar's speech brought forth your more painful memories." He leans closer to me so his lips are a mere fingers width from my left ear. "Why did you not come to me with your worries? Are we not brothers? Are we not the ones who hold no barrier up between one another? Not a secret is between us and yet, I see you now, distraught and taking your leave of these lands before you need to." Never does he stop massaging my shoulders.  
  
"Tell me now, 'Restor. Tell me what ails my friend's heart. Tell me what hurt fate has bestowed upon your soul." I am silent.  
  
For the better part of five minutes, I am as silent as the rock I was seated upon yesternight. And he is patient.  
  
"It is soiled." I whisper finally. He looks at me through the mirror. I can feel his eyes on me even though my on are close. "Every time one of my feet steps before the other, every time the soles of my boots touch the ground... it feels as though I am soaking up every soiled, poisoned mineral that is stored within this land.  
  
"The passage of time aided me. I pushed my disheartening memories, feelings, emotions to the back of my mind. Only once did I delve back into them. When you fell... I felt that I could not live anymore. The cold swept over me, I could feel Mandos. I could feel the pain, the fear, the lack of anything positive. I could feel everything. And I could feel it when I was not even half way there.  
  
"I was not aware of anything around me physically. Elrond explained to me that he used all the strength he had to bring me back to him, to help him through the pain and in return, he would help me. And to this moment in time, I have never once thanked him for saving my soul. Because from the time I was revived, to the time you came back, all I felt was pain. Pure, physical and emotional pain. My heart was breaking, the tears I shed were like knives cutting my cheeks, the heat of a lit fire in a fireplace felt like I was burning alive, slowly and without a shed of mercy.  
  
"Never have I forgiven him for that. But our relationship, our friendship was too important for me to hold any grudge. And then you came back. I cannot imagine how you felt being at the gates as long as you were. You remember my reaction when you returned as well as any other present. I believe it was one of the few times I have ever shown such emotion.  
  
"After that. Not a century later, Mordor birthed forces that would destroy everything I was. Or everything I thought I was. My family, my friends, my king... all of them, died. These words are words I spoke to Elrond yesternight. My mother and my sister perished hearing the words of that Valar-forsaken speech.  
  
"The king, my father, my brothers... all lost their lives to orders of that tongue and for what! Only to have their memories desecrated, their home- lands poisoned by the words of one Grey Istar.  
  
"Whether he claims they were necessary or not! That tongue... that speech... The words he spoke were no more a necessity than my eyes are blind. It infuriates me that he said it. It angers me that Lord Elrond said nothing to stop it. It sends me into a fit of rage to think that he asked not even for a pardon! Who, in all the fires of Mordor, does he think he is? What gives him the right? Who gave him that right?"  
  
Sobs wrack my body and I collapse back into Glorfindel. I feel his strong arms encase me and slide me down to rest on the floor with him.

* * *

I do not know how long we sat there in the middle of the floor of my chambers, but it was long enough to have missed breakfast.  
  
We were sent for by Elrond to come and gather with him and the other Elves in his counsel to see the fellowship off and wish them all the luck they will need in their journey.  
  
When I arrived, I pulled Legolas to one side and told him I was leaving. The young Princeling was accepting of my decision, explaining that had he not have made a promise to the ring-bearer, he would join me with the first ship. He confided that when his time arose, he would join me in Valinor and look forward to the first conversation we will undoubtedly have with each other.  
  
I allowed Legolas to return to his group and made my way, ignoring all looks sent towards me, toward the Halfling whose task it was to bear the ring through the coming darkness. I stood before him with a smile on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Istar make a move towards me but one icy glare sent his way stopped him in his tracks. He was either too shocked at my actions to go on, or he headed the promise in the look I sent.  
  
I knelt down on one knee and locked eyes with the Hobbit, Frodo Baggins. I then began:  
  
"Much bravery you hold in your heart little one. In my years I have fought countless battles. Though many of my battles have been arduous, hard, painful and I may have come out of each of them a little less of who I once was... Never before have I fought for something as important as what you are setting out to fight for this day.  
  
"No man, Hobbit, Dwarf, Wizard or Elf should ever have had to burden themselves with the evil you have burdened yourself with. I look into your heart and I see an innocence there that no one else present at that counsel meeting possessed... including all Elves.  
  
"You have earned the respect of all here in Imladris, and I wish you the greatest of lucks in your journey. The darkness will end and you will be free of your burden. Until such a time comes to pass, you have Sam to help you keep up your spirits." At this, I smile in Samwise Gamgee's direction. The hobbit blushes slightly at the attention. "Live long and be happy Frodo, son of Drogo, elf-friend." I bowed my head deeply before standing up and taking my place beside Glorfindel.  
  
I felt my friend grasp my hand tightly as Lord Elrond spoke and I felt as though it took all I was to stay in control of my emotions. I returned the grasp and held on.  
  
That evening, I left Middle-Earth. Never again did I let my eyes roam the lands whose past bore black holes in my soul.  
  
I never looked back.  
  
But I never forgot.

* * *

Erestor I remain   
  
Only years will I gain.  
  
-Tela- 


End file.
